


Warmth

by Scout924



Series: Stucky Ficlets [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Insomnia, M/M, Shy Bucky Barnes, Warming Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 18:22:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13300629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scout924/pseuds/Scout924
Summary: Bucky struggles with the cold, and seeks Steve in the night.





	Warmth

Bucky’s been sleeping in the spare bedroom, because once Steve convinces him he doesn’t need to sleep on the floor, he wants to make sure he gives Bucky plenty of space.

The night the snowstorm hits, he sticks his head in Bucky’s room, asking him if he’s got enough blankets. Steve knows his own dislike of the cold, but he can only imagine how much Bucky dreads the chill of the night air. Bucky nods soundlessly, sitting on the side of the bed, clad only in Steve’s softest pair of sweatpants and a thick pair of wool socks. His metal arm gleams in the light from the open door. His toes clench and open against the carpet. Steve stands at the door for a beat, waiting, then quietly closes the door behind him.

Steve has been lying awake for an hour or more, staring at the shadows playing on the wall, when the door opens quietly. He sits up to see Bucky standing in his doorway, head ducked and eyes curtained by his dark hair.

“What’s up, Buck?” Steve says, keeping his voice low. “You okay?”

Bucky lifts his eyes to Steve, unmoving.

“Is something wrong?”

Bucky looks away, lifts his shoulders slightly in a shrug.

“You cold?” Steve says, his voice a whisper, like they need to keep it quiet.

Bucky meets his eyes again and nods, chin stiff and stubborn, and Steve is reminded of that same stubborn chin from his younger days. Of days when Bucky would stubbornly tell a thinner, more sickly Steve to curl against him so he wouldn’t catch cold, damnit.

“You want some more clothes, a sweatshirt?” Steve offers, sitting up a little more. Bucky scratches his bare chest, absentmindedly. He lets the palm drift down the dark patch of hair on his taut stomach and wraps it around himself. He shakes his head, lets his shoulders roll back, lightly stretching his body.

“C’mere then,” Steve motions him over with his hand, and pulls back the covers, inviting Bucky into the warm bed. “It’s all right,” he says softly, giving Bucky a small smile.

Bucky stills at the door, torn. He eyes the sheets, the empty side of the bed, and the look in his eyes makes Steve sick. Every muscle in his body is straining to hold him back, but his expression is tired, so tired.

“I won’t touch you, Buck. We’ll just be warmer in here together. I’m cold too, actually,” he tries, and Bucky automatically looks up. Steve crosses his legs in front of him under the covers. Bucky’s shoulders tremble, his feet clench and unclench in the carpet.

“Will you come lie down with me, please?”

That seems to do it, a direct question, though Steve hates giving Bucky anything that feels like an order, afraid he will think of him as a handler. But he’s so obviously cold, and if asking him gets him under the warm blanket, it’ll have to do for tonight.

Bucky pads to the side of the bed, lying down on his side, facing Steve, who draws the covers over the both of them. Bucky’s dark hair fans out across the pillow, his bottom lip quivering with cold.

Steve is careful not to touch him, though he aches to do so, even if it’s just to rub warmth into Bucky’s numb fingertips.

He lays his metal hand out, splays the fingers on the mattress between them.

“Your arm bothering you?” Steve asks quietly. Bucky nods, pointedly keeping his eyes downcast. 

“Is it cold?” Another nod. The crest of his shoulder is peeking out from beneath the covers, and Steve can see the angry pink scar tissue where metal meets flesh. The muscle tremors there, and Steve doesn’t know if it’s from cold or if the muscle is cramping.

“I’m going to tuck the quilt around you, okay? Just up around your shoulders. You’ll be warmer like this.” He lifts the covers so Bucky can see what he’s doing. Bucky nods, closes his eyes like he’s waiting for a blow. Steve swallows the lump in his throat.

He gently tucks Bucky in, running his hand over the quilt and down Bucky’s back to tuck the ends of the blankets around him as much as he can. He’s hovering over his face, proximity close, but he makes sure not to touch skin at all. When he looks back down, Bucky is watching him, his chest rising and falling softly.

“That better?” Steve’s voice comes out in a whisper. They’re close, too close. He’s scared he’s making Bucky uncomfortable when Bucky reaches out his flesh hand, eyes watching it like it’s moving on its own.

His cool fingers slide across Steve’s ribs, slow and questioning. Steve slides under the covers completely, opening his body to Bucky, holding his breath as he goes. Bucky’s grey eyes are a little wild, unsure, but he slides toward the warmth of Steve’s chest, his hand coming around his lower back.

“Can I hold you?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods hard, buries his face against Steve’s bare chest. Steve slides an arm around his back, tucking him against him snugly. It takes a while for Bucky’s breathing to calm, and the scruff on his chin scratches against Steve’s skin, but he smiles against Bucky’s hair, savoring every tender moment.

He starts running a hand over Bucky’s skin, slow circles to calm him to sleep. Bucky roots gently against him in response, as if he can’t get close enough. Steve gently lifts his leg, eases it over Bucky’s hip, and pulls him even closer. He feels Bucky tuck his socked feet between his calves.

Steve loses track of time, relishing in the feeling of Bucky’s skin under his fingers, until he realizes the man in his arms is finally asleep, his breathing soft and rumbling gently. He presses a silent kiss to Bucky’s temple and settles in for sleep.


End file.
